


Looking Out

by Enchantedtalisman



Category: Leverage
Genre: Fluff, M/M, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3672042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantedtalisman/pseuds/Enchantedtalisman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardison was always the one Nana expected to look out for anyone being hurt. It's instinct by now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking Out

**Author's Note:**

> I actually kind of don't like this one. I mean how I wrote it, but I wrote it ages ago and I like the ending, so I figured maybe someone else will also like the ending.

 

The first time Hardison barely even notices, isn't sure if anyone else would except he's pretty good at catching things other people don't want to have seen. His Nana always had him on watch duty, make sure to see if anyone was abused or hiding an injury that needed fixing. He knows he shouldn't brush it off, but this isn't a kid who has to rely on adults, but a grown man; who he's very scared of.

If Parker or Nate notice, well they don't say anything, and Hardison doubts they would. He lists it down in one of the files that he encrypts because he's not stupid enough to use Eliot's name and not keep it hidden just in case (He knows they're not the best, that someone might be better than them).

 

They are running down a half-way to the exit when he hears the gunshot. Hardison glances at Eliot, but he's still running right beside him-pushes him to the right and out the exit before there's two more.

Hardison stops right there but gets bowled over two seconds later by Eliot coming out alive and well.

“Dammit Hardison, your supposed to be moving.” Eliot picks him up, a little wet gasp under his breath that he can't hide, and they keep running.

The buildings surrounded by cafes, mostly, and other offices, so it's easy to get into a crowd and vanish from sight.

Nate and Sophie can't blow their cover, and Hardison refuses to get into a car with Parker driving, and is expecting a fast walk through the streets, but instead Eliot pulls him through a side alley and takes them away from the buildings and bustle of the high end city offices.

Hardison doesn't realize his arms wet with something until five minutes later. “Dude.” He grabs Eliot's arm and holds him still while he stares at the fresh liqu—blood dripping past the plaid shirt and down Eliot's bicep. “You got hit.”

“Yeah, it's not big deal, come on.” Elliot pulls back but if the clenched and grinding jaw means anything; it probably hurt.

“It's not-It's not no big deal, man. Come here let me see.” Haridson doesn't know why he tries but he moves closer, edges them up to a wall, and gets Elliot shoving him off and growling.

“Touch me again, Hardison. Touch me again and we'll see what happens.” Eliot looks pissed, but his eyes won't stay on Hardison and keep darting over his face, his hand covers his injury.

Hardison nods, feeling abashed, and just as unsure as Eliot looks.

 

He looks at Eliot's arm the next day and yeah, it looked like it wasn't bleeding at least—maybe a bit swollen, but it's hard to tell while he's wearing another plaid shirt.

Eliot glances up at him and shifts back, looks surprised, and then growls at him.

Hardison scowls back, he's only worried about the man, Jesus. He makes sure to note it down.

 

 

The third time is Hardison's fault, and there's nothing that can deny it, and arguing about it for the first ten minutes before he realizes it's serious makes the guilt stew in his stomach a little more.

This job is actively the easiest considering they're dealing with a criminal just starting out (maybe a few years into it) but somehow all they had to do was get into the restaurant and hijack the place, break it down from the inside out and failed it quite spectacularly.

“Let me look at it.” Hardison tries again, for maybe the fiftieth time in the past hour, on the bright side at least Eliot's not bleeding internally or externally.

Eliot growls and moves his leg away, bites his lip raw again just like every other time he's tried to move it.

Hardison winces at that, because he knows that must hurt. “I could put some ice on it.”

Eliot glances at him, eyes hard and mouth tight. He nods towards the back of the ice locker they are trapped in.

There's not much that could be used as an ice pack but Hardison finds a pack of meat and gently walks between Eliot's spread legs, and isn't sure how to place the 'ice pack' without making the situation worse.

“A piece of meat, Hardison?” Eliot rolls his eyes, but there's something familiar in their banter that's soothing.

Parker should be getting them out of here eventually, whenever she can stop playing the pretty waitress, but until then they just have to wait it out.

“What did you want huh? We're in a meat locker!”

Eliot snorts and grabs Hardison's hand and presses the meat against his wounded leg. Eliot bites his lip, and it's bloody again, before sighing.

They stay like that and Hardison pays too much attention to the realization that Eliot's hand it still there, holding him steady, and the fact that he's still basically between Eliot's legs. He feels a warmth in his gut that he can't say isn't some kind of attraction but he's not ready to figure that out right now.

Ten minutes of feeling heat in his groin, and slowly having thoughts of Eliot's hands being on other parts of his skin (and then feeling completely guilty because he's the one who caused the broken bone in the first place) Parker opens the door and looks at them with a frown. “Guys the lock barely took me ten seconds to open, seriously.”

“How were we supposed to open the door from inside, Parker?” Eliot growls, pushing Hardison's hand away and getting up with a pained grunt.

But Hardison still feels guilty, and even more so about thinking about the man naked (and the subsequent hard-on) wraps an arm around Eliot's waist and indicates his other side to Parker.

She actually gets it without asking a single question first, and they escape while Sophie somehow finishes the deal off.

 

 

Hardison finds Eliot in his apartment, a small thing that Hardison hates because it's so empty and impersonal.

“What are you doing here?” At least he's had the broken leg covered in a cast, one that makes him walk on crutches and wince with pain everytime he moves.

“You should be resting.” Hardison frowns at him.

“I would except _someone_ knocked on the door.” Eliot sits back down on the couch and places the crutches just above two weights that imply that he wasn't just resting.

“Uhuh. And those.”

“Left them there before the job.”

“Right.”

Eliot glares at Hardison, “What do you want?”

“I'm sorry.” Hardison shifts and looks at the cast as if he could somehow take on the injury if he wishes hard enough.

“For what?” Eliot raises his eyebrows.

“For,” Hardison waves at the cast , “I fucked up, if anyone should have a broken leg, it should've been me.”

Eliot beckons him until Hardison is an inch away.

He expects a punch, maybe a kick hard enough to leave him reeling, because well, he does deserve _some_ kind of punishment.

Eliot pulls him by the collar of his shirt and looks him straight in the eye, “It wasn't your fault.” He kisses him quick and simple, “And if you don't think that's enough I have two weeks of boredom ahead of me that I need help with.”

Hardison gaps, can still feel the tingle against his lips, “You—are you trying to say you want help with,”

“With Sex Hardison. You ruined it, you ruined the seduction.”

“That was a really awful seduction man.”

“Shut up, Hardison.”


End file.
